


Footprints of a Ghost

by 51KateSawyer15



Category: Lost
Genre: F/M, and some pain and sadness, here have some more angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-06
Updated: 2013-06-06
Packaged: 2017-12-14 03:14:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/832060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/51KateSawyer15/pseuds/51KateSawyer15
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kate keeps finding sand around the house despite the fact that it’s been over a week since she and Aaron last went to the beach. Little patches of sand, gritty beneath her bare feet as she steps on the bathroom tiles, sticking to her sweaty skin as she lies in bed at night. Little patches of sand like footprints of a ghost.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Footprints of a Ghost

Aaron loves the beach. He goes with the nanny almost every day; each time bringing back shells, pieces of glass softened by the waves and broken cuttlefish which he presents to her proudly. Kate stores all Aaron’s precious findings in a glass vase on the bookshelf in his room. And every night she empties pocketfuls of sand into the bin before she puts his shorts in the wash; replacing the tangy smell of salt with the familiar scent of washing powder. Part of Kate is crying out to go with each morning when Aaron and the nanny leave for the beach; Aaron’s pale face slathered in partially rubbed in sunscreen, his bucket hat pulled down over his eyebrows. But something holds her back, reigns her in.

 

On the nights when Jack is working late Aaron shares her bed instead. Somehow his freshly showered body still manages to leave sand beneath the sheets that chafes Kate’s skin as she sleeps. The sharp salty smell of his hair combined with the cloying sunscreen scent of his skin seeps into her dreams. In her dreams, Kate’s bed is a mattress on the sand and the salty-sunscreen smell of the person lying beside her belongs to a man rather than a boy. His skin is sun-browned and slick when she slides a finger over his collar bone, tracing the hollow of his throat, feeling his pulse steady beneath his skin. The air is heavy, lethargic, and it drags as she rolls closer to him. A huff of breath against her forehead followed by a flutter of eyelashes and he’s awake, smiling down at her with a softer, more private version of his usual cocky smirk; fewer teeth, deeper dimples. But something isn’t right. His eyes are endless and too blue. And once Kate looks into them she finds she can’t look away as she falls, falls into the oceans of his eyes. She’s helpless as the waves thunder over her head and she looses sight of his smile. Kate always wakes with his name on her lips in a room smelling so cruelly similar to the tent that she think she’s still dreaming: salt, sunscreen, sun-warmed skin. Every morning after Aaron has slept in her bed Kate scrubs her self in the shower using the floral scented soap she hates, desperately trying to wash away the memories.

 

She’s going to do it today. She’s going to go, Kate tells herself as she thrusts her swimming costume and towel into a beach bag perhaps more forcefully than necessary. She’s already called the nanny and told her not to come, so now there’s no turning back. Only when they’re actually there and she’s lifted Aaron out of the car and turned, catching her first glimpse of the ocean, does she panic. The world seems to stagger for a moment and then continue on as usual. But that moment of falling is utter terror, vertigo in a helicopter, chapped lips against hers for the last time.

“Mommy, you’re hurting my hand,” Aaron pipes up from next to her and it takes a moment too long for Kate to register her clenched white knuckles before she hurriedly lets go and bends down to kiss his hand better.

“Should I kiss you better too, Mommy?” Aaron asks and Kate lets him press a dribbly, childish kiss to her hand. One day he would understand that there were some things that couldn’t be kissed better.

 

Kate sits on the sand, watching Aaron play at the water’s edge, building a sand castle that is perpetually being washed over by the incoming tide. The destruction of his castle doesn’t seem to bother him though, as he continues to build with childish determination, eyes narrowed both in concentration and against the dimming afternoon sun. Every time Kate looks over the tide has come in further, creeping up the beach towards her, ready to sweep her from her place on sand and wash her away. It isn’t fear of being swept away that keeps her from the water, it’s fear of wanting to be swept away. It would be all too easy to let the ocean have its way, to give up and give in. It would be all too easy to leave all this behind.

 

The beach is quiet now, the roiling clouds on the horizon having caused most people to pack up and leave before the impending storm. The air is fluid and charged in anticipation of lightning, the wind warm, but increasingly insistent as the blankets of cloud obscure the sun. When she closes her eyes Kate finds herself back on the island, unexpected storm clouds brewing overhead followed by large drops of warm rain. Her t-shirt sticks to her skin as tendrils of her hair contour to neck; the sound of rain drumming on the plastic tarp. _Oh, man. It’s really coming down. Get under here, Freckles!_ He tugs on her hand, pulling her under the cover of the tent where she falls slightly against him, his skin warm even through both of their wet clothing.

“I like the rain,” she whispers as she opens her eyes to find Aaron tugging on her hand as he shivers in the storm.

 

Kate runs Aaron a hot bath, hugging him close to her as he shivers in his still wet swimmers, fringe plastered to his forehead. Then she sits down, leaning against the side of the bath. Her eyelids droop with exhaustion and every time they close she catches a momentary glimpse of dimples and too-long blond hair and she hears the eternal echo of waves. In her half-asleep haze she can just hear Aaron singing to himself in the bath, the sound of what might have been; her blond, dimpled son in the bath. She doesn’t know what she’s doing, playing at marriage with Jack, playing at motherhood with Aaron, when she knows she doesn’t fit either part. She can’t help but hate the fact that she’s willing to put the effort in now when she hadn’t been before, when it had mattered. _How long do you think we can play house?_ Her fingers tracing his collarbone as they lean against each other in the bathroom of their sunshine yellow house, listening to their son’s tuneless humming in the bath. The few items of clothing they own all mixed up on one side of the cupboard, despite there being more than enough space to spread them out. His rough Southern drawl as he reads their son a bedtime story. _Why don’t we find out?_ Her life that never was, but could have been.

 

Kate keeps finding sand around the house despite the fact that it’s been over a week since she and Aaron last went to the beach. Little patches of sand, gritty beneath her bare feet as she steps on the bathroom tiles, sticking to her sweaty skin as she lies in bed at night. Little patches of sand like footprints of a ghost. Her dreams are filled with the infinite ocean and a figure bobbing up and down, always in the distance, always on the horizon. Kate wakes to the taste of the sea, only to find it’s the taste of her tears. She sneaks to the bathroom to scrub her face before Jack wakes up. The vase of shells on Aaron’s shelf continues to fill with every trip they take to the beach; a shrine to memories of laughter and warmth and a tent steaming up with the heat of their bodies. She feels like she’s barely holding on to this construct of a life, the tide’s coming in and she’s ready to float away, untethered. But there’s always a new day and the tide recedes again. Kate can’t help but wonder how long it will be before the waves wear her away entirely. _You’re gonna be all right. I’ll keep you safe._


End file.
